Of all the fascinating blooms
that grace a summer's gladdening hours
the ever gloriously bedecked foxglove
is the most intricate, stately, enchanting

She lifts her purple towers
ever so rapturously in solo gardens
or amidst a field of wildflowers
at her feet like a dainty coronation
she needs no grandiose pedestal
to display her vibrant, regal pride
as she radiantly peaks to blushing glow

Every time there is a rush of wind
as if summoned by courtly cues
her steeples rock as excited
delicate clappers within elatedly swing
if our mortal ears could hear
the chiming of her spritely bells
would it be a joyous reeling
or a subtle, solemn knell?